Page 12

It’s four thirty-eight. In the old grain store, my green, three-door Mini looks like a toy next to the twins’ SUVs. I force my hands to stop shaking as I slide my key in the ignition.

I try to recall the conversation with Sarah. She’d heard the rehearsal that afternoon had overrun but everyone had caught their buses. She’d commented on the weather, and said half the sixth-formers would have skipped off those buses early and gone to the beach.

Sarah had made an announcement over the Tannoy. There were some after-school clubs just finishing, and she’d have the boarders’ halls checked and talk to the head, Mr Whitlow. No need to worry yet.

No, they didn’t keep a register for sixth-form classes. They hadn’t for years. It helped develop independence and a sense of responsibility. It seemed to work very well.

Miss Smith would probably be on her way home now but Sarah would talk to her ASAP, since she was the last teacher to have Jenna in her class. They would have school security conduct a search, just as a precaution.

Sarah suggested I talk to Jenna’s friends, the rest of the family.

She reminded me we didn’t know Jenna was missing yet.

Yet.

I call my baby again then press the ignition button and take a breath.

She must be with Rose. It’s such a beautiful day, they probably just went to the beach and lost track of time. That’s where I’ll start.

It’s a twelve-minute drive to Morvoren. No need to panic and drive faster. I park in the lot above the wide sweeping bay. There’s a cormorant on the big black rock that stands out of the water, and a litter of white skiffs from the sailing school gliding across the blue. One of them is drifting too close to the lighthouse.

I duck into the café, but the boy behind the counter shakes his head at the picture of Jenna on my phone. It’s from the twins’ birthday party. Her hair is still long, tucked in a red beanie, her smile close-lipped, uncertain.

The boy zooms in with greasy fingertips. ‘Yeah, there was a group from PES earlier. They came in for toasties around four, but I don’t know. There were a lot them.’

I try to call Jenna again. No answer.

I scour the beach for Jenna’s red backpack as I hurry down the concrete steps past families laden with folded windbreaks and buckets and coolers. I jog all the way to the rocks at the far end, up onto the dunes, sand filling my sandals.

I want to go from group to group, showing them photos, but I haven’t heard from the school yet. Maybe she’s still there.

Or Miss Smith has her locked in the boot of her car.

Or Miss Smith grew up into a normal person and I’m being crazy.

It’s been an hour, and something about it being a whole hour makes me feel queasy. But an hour isn’t long. Maybe she’s in Port Emblyn. Should I go there? No – she’s more likely still at school, in art or music or painting a set backstage with her headphones on.

Will she even have heard a Tannoy announcement? Sometimes she turns her music up so loud.

I need to keep calm. Keep smiling.

I close my eyes for a second and swallow down the tide of fear creeping up my throat.

I turn back to the steps, ready for my second trip of the day to my daughter’s school. My school. The school my family has attended for as many generations as we’ve lived at Shorthorn Lodge.

Back in the car, I try to call Jenna again. No answer.

I feel sick as I drive up the hill, my smile slipping. I don’t even honk in local tradition when I go past Betsy, the Port Emblyn mascot, a bronze statue of a Cornish Shorthorn cow – the breed our farm is named after.

The sun bounces off her back and I try to take some cheer from her, but I can’t find her funny. She’s whimsical and frivolous and she has no place in this moment.

As I wait at a crossroads, I call Jenna again. No answer.

Again. No answer.

Again. No answer.

Rose. No answer.

But Jenna does have other friends. I find Dinae and Devon’s mother’s number and try that. No answer. Although they’re boarders and their parents live near Newquay. So I try Dinae’s number instead. No answer.

There’s a break in the traffic and I pull over the crossing.

Dinae and Devon, now they’re a pair. They could give Ash and Ava a run for their money. Proper little royals.

A while ago – can it be two years? – Rose and Jenna had gone for a long weekend at theirs. Dan had driven them.

When was the last time I saw them?

Sylvie – she must have been round recently. She lives near Morvoren Bluffs. They used to lock themselves in Jenna’s room for hours, rehearsing songs they wrote and then performing them for the others. Her parents are lovely.

I almost drive into a hedge trying to call Rose again. I drop the phone.

Calm down, Frances. It’s no good if you kill yourself and Jenna turns up at home.

But how long till I call the police? Sarah said I needed to speak to everyone Jenna knows – friends and family. Because she’s most likely doing something completely normal that she forgot to tell me about. Or even intentionally didn’t tell me because she’s annoyed – about what? The hem of that silly dress?

There’s almost certainly a reasonable explanation.

So why do I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff looking down?

Because of Georgia Smith. Because of how she smiled at my baby.